Countdown
by Trish47
Summary: "One hour. That's it. After sixty minutes, her chances of getting out of this alive fall to somewhere right around zero." Annie is put to the test and the clock is ticking. One-shot. Slight A/A.


**Inspired by the conversation between Annie and Auggie from the episode "Good Advices" concerning how much time Eyal has before the situation turns dire. Also inspired by next week's promo. Enjoy!  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own this show or its characters. **

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><p>**Countdown**<p>

The slight pain in her wrist rouses her to wakefulness.

Everything moves slowly. Her eyes don't want to open, and her head doesn't want to lift up at her command. Even her heartbeat and breathing pattern seem stilted. All of these physical elements should be signs that something is wrong, but it isn't until Annie recognizes that she's in a foreign area that full realization settles in.

She's been taken captive.

One strong pull tells her that her hands are bound behind her back with a sturdy, thick rope and attached to the wooden chair she's sitting on. Her legs are also strapped to each front leg post with what appears to be duct tape.

_How did this happen_? Annie thinks as she tries to shake the lingering fuzziness from her head—a common side effect of chloroform.

The last thing Annie remembers is sitting at a table in Allen's, across from Auggie. She was nursing her third beer as they spoke in whispers about their upcoming trip to The Farm to undergo advanced training techniques. She'd gotten up to go to the bathroom. . . Did she ever make it to the stall? Her mind starts to lose precious details in a hazy whirl.

How she ended up here is not important. What she needs to do now is come up with some plan to free herself and escape.

The clock started ticking the moment she was taken. One hour. That's it. After sixty, very short, minutes, her chances of getting out of this alive fall to somewhere right around zero. There's no telling how long she was unconscious, which means that that hour could actually be twenty minutes. It could be five.

As Annie begins working her wrists, turning them back and forth to see if she can loosen the rope binding them to the chair, another thought hits her across the face.

Auggie.

If she was compromised and captured, there's a chance that the people responsible for grabbing her took Auggie too. He could be in the next room, tied up and unconscious. She won't let herself think past that point, but struggles more fervently against her bonds. The rope burns her skin, but she can feel it start to slacken with her efforts.

Annie hears Auggie's voice in her head as she works: _Don't knock continuing education_.

Maybe she should have listened to her handler, her friend. She shouldn't have dismissed going back to The Farm for further training as something not worth her time. If she took her training more seriously, she might have already figured out how to get out of the rudimentary bonds holding her in place. Annie knows she can do it—she's gotten out of more complicated restraints than rope—but she's having difficulty clearing her head.

Her focus is skewed. Part of her mind is still under the influence of the beer and chloroform combination, while the more lucid part of her mind isn't concentrating on the task at hand. Instead, it's preoccupied with thoughts of Auggie, with mumbling prayers for his safety.

Annie lets out a low, almost guttural growl of frustration and pain. Her wrists ache from the effort she's exerting to free herself, but the rope isn't giving anymore.

A voice comes through the door to her left: "We'll start with Anderson, then move on to Walker."

Her adrenaline level spikes at the comment. Each beat of her heart feels like a ticking second hand. The clock isn't just counting down the time she has remaining; it's counting down Auggie's time too. She needs to try something else.

Annie does a quick survey of the room. Small. Dark. No windows. A work station in the corner a few feet from her. Noisy machines along the wall. Your standard utility closet. There's nothing accessible that will help her cut through the rope and duct tape. Her only option is to continue to manipulate the rope until it is loose enough to wiggle one hand free.

She hears a loud bang through the wall in front of her. It's not the sound of a gun going off, thank God, but it still assaults her eardrums. It has to be Auggie.

Annie strains desperately against her bonds and is finally rewarded when one hand slips through the corded rope. Her wrist is raw from her struggles, but she doesn't stop to rub away the pain. She pulls at the rope around her other wrist, and it falls away with little resistance. With both of her hands free, the remaining rope that was secured around her chest falls to rest heavily in her lap. Annie lifts it over her head and discards it on the floor, turning to her taped legs.

Another loud noise, more like a crack, sounds directly in front of her. Fear that her friend is being beaten or worse drives her into a near panicked state, but she can't allow her thoughts to be muddled by her concern. She has to push her feelings to the side, like she was trained to, and focus on the job. It's what Auggie would do if he were in her position. He'd do everything he could to get her out safe, and she owes him the same treatment.

The duct tape is too sticky to rip with her hands, so Annie turns back to the workbench. She opens the top drawer, rummages around, and finds a pair of pliers—not the sharpest instrument, but it will have to do.

She presses the slightly pointed tip against her leg and wriggles it underneath the tape, then pushes the tip out until it rips through the sticky material. Annie continues the process, working as quickly as she's able, until the tape on both of her legs is cut. She keeps hold of the pliers because, as far as she can tell, they are her best weapon at the moment.

More voices come through the wall, but they don't stay stagnant. They move along the length of the room and Annie follows them to the left wall where the door is located.

They must be coming for her now. She swallows back the lump in her throat at what that could mean. Have they already finished with Auggie? Is he. . .?

Annie stands on the right side of the door so that, when it opens, she will have a clear path to attack her captors.

In another moment, the door handle rattles as it is unlocked. Then it swings inward. Annie doesn't hesitate and thrusts her arm at the man's chest.

She stops short just in time. "Auggie?"

The side of her arm rests against his chest, the point of the pliers touching the space right above his heart. His hand comes up and encircles hers, pulling it off his chest and disarming her with care. Her hand falls back to the center of his ribcage, now empty.

"Next time I'll announce myself."

Annie is still breathing hard through her slightly opened mouth. She does a quick once over of his body, notices that he has red rings around his wrists too, and a small nick on the side of his cheek. Almost instinctively, she wets her thumb with her tongue and wipes away the single rivulet of blood that escaped his wound. Two men stand behind him in the hallway. Judging from their suits and ties, they're Company men too. So, she's not in as much danger as she originally thought. Annie tries to steady herself as she recovers from her adrenaline rush.

"I don't know whether to hug you or punch you," she says in a whisper so that the other men won't overhear her. "What's going on?"

"This, it appears, was our first test for training camp," he replies.

Annie feels relief, but also anger. "They couldn't have said anything to us?"

"They wanted it to feel authentic."

She notes his sardonic tone and knows that he doesn't appreciate the CIA's training tactics anymore than she does. She takes her time glaring at the men over his shoulder, her expression making them uncomfortable enough to turn away.

Annie reverts her attention back to Auggie. "I thought you were in serious trouble."

His head bends until his lips hover around her ear. "I thought you were too."

One simple phrase. That's all it takes for her to know that Auggie was just as worried about her well-being as she was about his. Whether that worry comes from the over-protective, big brother side of him, the I'd-do-anything-for-you friend side, or from somewhere deeper, she doesn't know. Nor does she care. The chapped rope burns on his wrists and the sincerity of his voice give him away. Right now, identifying the source behind his care isn't what's important; it's knowing he cares at all.

When he draws back, Annie tilts her head to see the other Company men. While she's still angry that they weren't informed about this impromptu test, that they were basically abducted and led to believe that their lives were in real danger, and that no one is offering any sort of apology, Annie decides to let it go. This is what happens when you work for the CIA. One day, she may even look back on this experience and be thankful, though she hopes she's never put in the same situation again.

"So, did we pass?" she asks the Suits, trying to mask her annoyance.

The one carrying a clipboard looks down at his notes and then back up at her. "Mr. Anderson broke free in forty minutes. And you, Ms. Walker, made it in forty-seven. You both pass."

Auggie chuckles and grins with pride. "But I won."

Annie slips her arm through his as he turns to follow the Company men down the hallway. "Oh yeah? Well, we'll see who's better at target practice."

He shakes his head and makes a tsk-tsk sound. "Low blow, Walker. Low blow." Then he sighs dramatically. "Guess I'll just have to beat you at hand-to-hand combat then."

She smiles, ready for the challenge. "You're so on."

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><p><strong>AN: Couldn't get this out of my head, and it was interfering with my ability to write for _Flashes_. Problem solved now. :)**

**Did anyone else think that an hour seemed kinda short? That statistic sort of startled me. **

**Please review.  
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